Been reading a lot,
as you know if you've been my friend on FB or are a recipient of the email updates that I've been sending out following Val's sugery. I bought a dumbly named ebook reader from B&N, and found a website where I can download lots of free books. You could too, if you knew of the website. If you're nice to me, maybe I'll tell you what site it is. So anyway...
In some of these books, I find myself getting a bit annoyed with the authors use of brand names. How am I supposed to know what a Tag Huer is? Good thing the author was so desperate for words to fill up his book he used proper/good context. Let me give you an example:
Before Bill set out for the ring necked pheasant hunt scheduled for 8:00am, he felt he should get dressed, so he pulled on his Fruit of the Looms, a Hanes t-shirt and socks, his Under Armour thermal underwear, a LLBean long sleeved flannel shirt, quilted Levi jeans, using his custom made jeans installation device...which allows a person to put on jeans both legs at the same time. He then sat down to lace up his waterproofed coldproof snakebiteproof thornproof mudproof wearproof Red Wing boots. He bounces once on his sleep number bed, failed to knock over the Waterford crystal glass full of Boone's Farm wine and knew it'd be a good day. He skipped across the parquet wood floor, slipped through the door using the silent Kwikset door knob. He opens his Tappen refridgerator, pulls out some Eggland's best eggs, some JimmyDean sausage, throws a HyVee English muffin in the BlackNDecker toaster, scrambles the eggs on the Hotpoint stove in the Wearever skillet that he so prefers over the Calphalon. Some Plochman's mustard and BlueBonnet butter are the only condiments that he needs for his sandwich. He finishes eating, grabs his Winchester, his Remington, his Browning, his Mossberg and his Berretta shotguns, thinking at the time that it's a very good thing that he had those 3 bionic arms installed last spring. Now, he only shoots shells that he has hand loaded himself in the basement, and grabs up a box of duckshot, gooseshot, buckshot, turkeyshot, pigeonshot, quailshot, doveshot, pigshot, elkshot, squirrelshot, and finally a box of fishshot. (Just in case) He loads all his crap into his Ford pickup, jumps in, starts it up (happy that the Diehard didn't, yet) and backed it out through the Chamberlain door. Damn! Forgot to push the button to engage the Liftmaster door opener. He hauls ass down the road, also forgetting his coffee, the dog, and his coats.
Ok, so that is a slight exaggeration, and I know....he didn't even make coffee, which brings up another annoyance I find in books. Just the other day I was reading, this book is set in NewEngland, it was August, they met at the house at 6:00pm. Here is what made me mad: As she walked up to the house, the fireflies were still flitting about the yard, the contractor was waiting on the steps. Ok....midsummer....doesn't get dark till 9:00. Fireflies don't come out until dark. 6 is not dark.
In other news....on the Secret Life show, isn't it interesting that they picked the Asians to be the smart kids.
I dunno if other people that post blogs welcome comments...but I do.